Unholy Ghost Page 13

‘Yes.’

  ‘What else did he tell you?’

  ‘You had another claimant to the estate, a good one, maybe even the real one. He told me what you’d said about the marriage in Florida, how you thought it ruled out the brothers.’

  ‘And about the journalist?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No, he never mentioned any journalist.’

  ‘Right. You have to make a choice and you have to make it now.’

  ‘Or you’ll throw me over the balcony?’

  ‘No. If we work together you have to be willing. We’re no good to each other if we don’t do this as a team.’

  She thought about it, but only for a second.

  ‘So, what would you say were my choices?’

  ‘Go with me to Rome and vet our candidate, then go with me to Munich and help me find out who the opposition are.’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or go to the police and tell them I killed Serge and why I killed him.’ She sat looking at him. Damn, the silly cow was thinking about it. ‘Of course if you go to the police you’ll have to tell them the whole thing. They’ll have to know what this is all …’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Jimmy shut up and waited. When she spoke he realised he was wrong, she’d been thinking, but not about going to the police.

  ‘Can the police tie you to the killing?’

  ‘I doubt it. There were two witnesses …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The two blokes he’d arranged to be there. Probably the ones who put Joubert in hospital, so they won’t go to the police in a hurry. The police may eventually get some sort of description but it won’t be any time soon. The only real connection between me and Carpentier will be from the airport, from the bloke in security who passed the message that I was back. If he sent it straight to Serge we’re clear, if not, if it went through channels it’ll surface and they’ll have a name, my name.’

  ‘How long do you think we have?’

  ‘He’s one of their own, they pull out all the stops, TV, papers, everything. We need to go now, tonight, and we need to go by train. No airports, it has to be train.’

  ‘Or car?’

  ‘No, cars are too easy to pick up. How many people knew about you and Serge?’

  ‘A few, not many.’

  ‘He said he had a boyfriend, a partner, Jules?’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t exclusive. Jules only liked men, Serge liked men and women. I doubt Jules knows anything about me or would care if he did.’

  ‘If you left, now, would you be missed?’

  ‘I could send in something to the office, tell them I’ve had an urgent call in relation to this case, that it will take me out of town for a few days.’

  ‘And that won’t get anyone thinking?’

  ‘No, the thing’s under wraps, top priority from head office. I deal with it and only me and I answer to New York personally to the head of the firm. If I said I was going to Rome to kill the pope it wouldn’t get anyone thinking, not out loud anyway, not if they wanted to keep their job.’

  ‘So, are we going to Rome to kill the pope?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good, you’ve made the right decision, Ms Heppert.’

  ‘Just one thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re doing this for your own reasons and now I know how far you’ll go to get whatever it is you hope achieve, so I’ll make something clear. Don’t think for one minute I am prepared to help you except in so far as it furthers the interests of my firm. I will hand you over to the police the moment I think our interests have diverged so if you intend to kill me at any point out of your sense of self-preservation then you’d better do it now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because before I go with you to Rome I will make a full and clear deposition, framed to suit my own interests of course, of everything you have told me or I have learned from Serge. It will be deposited safely at my office with instructions to be handed to the police should anything untoward happen to me in the next few weeks.’

  ‘Head office in New York won’t like it if does get handed to the police.’

  ‘As I’ll be dead then head office can go and …’

  And she used an expression the technicality of which escaped him, but was clearly derived from her experience of the magnificent and wonderful.

  ‘Fair enough. Our train leaves the Gare de Lyon at seven forty-two in the morning. It’s the TGV to Milan. I’ve bought the tickets, I’ll see you on the platform.’

  She stood up. She was fine. All things considered she’d taken it well and come up smiling. She was all lawyer now, just like Jimmy wanted.

  ‘I’m glad I seem to be dealing with someone organised.’

  Jimmy shrugged.

  ‘I guessed you’d be sensible that’s all.’

  ‘Then I’m also glad I’m dealing with a good guesser.’

  ‘Seven forty-two. Does that give you enough time?’

  ‘I’ll be there, Mr Costello, let’s hope you’re right about the police and you’re there as well.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there.’

  She left the room and Jimmy went out onto the balcony and looked down into the street. After a few minutes he saw her come out of the hotel and cross the road. She was on her mobile. Jimmy went back into his room. If she was calling the police there was nothing he could do. He was packed and ready, all there was to do now was wait until it was time to get a taxi to the Gare de Lyon.

  He thought about McBride’s room at the hospital, all those tubes and gadgets working to keep her alive, if she was still alive. Well, one of the bastards down and more to go. He picked up his mobile and made a call. She was in the operating theatre. There had been a complication and further surgery was necessary. If she survived the surgery her chances were improved but first she had to survive the surgery. Jimmy put his phone down the spoke to the empty room.

  ‘Hang in there, God, I’m doing the best I can. Don’t let her go now.’

  Then he went down to reception and told them he’d be leaving very early next day. He settled his bill then went back to his room where he sat and waited.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Nadine phoned Jimmy about an hour and a half after she had left his hotel. She’d sorted everything out with her office and was clear to go. She also told him that if it screwed up on her she had left information which would ensure that Jimmy, if he survived, would go down for murder, blackmail, shoplifting, and all the unpaid parking fines outstanding in Paris. Other than that she suggested they have breakfast at the Gare de Lyon before the train left next morning. Jimmy agreed and then lay on his bed. So far so good, I mean, why arrange to meet for breakfast if she was going to shop him to the police? So he set his phone for an alarm call, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

  His phone woke him next morning and at five he was went downstairs with his holdall. The night porter at reception looked up from his paper, took his key, smiled, and then went back to his reading and Jimmy left the hotel.

  Nadine arrived at the station café shortly after six thirty. She looked good, the real business. She was pulling a small, smart suitcase, had her Gucci handbag over her shoulder, and was carrying a severe briefcase. For a woman like her, Jimmy reckoned that was travelling light, and expecting a very short trip. She sat down, arranged her luggage by her, then looked at him with eyes that said “I’m in control”.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Aren’t you going to get me coffee?’

  ‘Sure. Just coffee?’

  She nodded and began to fiddle inside her handbag.

  Jimmy brought the coffee and put it in front of her. She took a sip.

  ‘I really do have your neck in a noose if this thing turns sour on me. You do understand that?’ It was Jimmy’s turn to nod but he was still tired so he didn’t add anything. ‘You said you had the tickets?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘First class?’

>   ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  She didn’t answer, lapsed into silence as she drank her coffee.

  Things stayed that way until they were sitting together on the train and it began to slowly roll out of the station.

  As soon as it had picked up speed Nadine began to try to make herself comfortable.

  ‘I’m going to try and get some sleep. When I wake you can get me coffee and croissants.’ She paused in her preparations. ‘With real butter.’

  ‘Got it. Real butter.’

  She turned her head slightly to the window, closed her eyes and, as far as Jimmy could make out, seemed to go straight to sleep. Jimmy looked past her at Paris, now moving past fast, and thought about his last train journey with Serge. That had been a bit of a bastard. He hoped this one would turn out better. He looked out of the window and watched Paris go by, then looked at Nadine. If she was pretending to be asleep she was doing a first-rate job.

  The rest of the journey passed in much the same way. Jimmy got her coffee when she wanted it but, other than that, they talked hardly at all. They both had plenty to think about and both had lots of questions that needed answers, but they were not the kind of questions you asked or answered anywhere public. Not that Jimmy would have asked her anything of any real interest even if they’d had the whole compartment to themselves. She wouldn’t give him any real answers until she was sure that the woman McBride had hidden away was the real thing, or as good as.

  The Paris to Milan run was a trip of just over seven hours. Jimmy stared into space or looked past Nadine at the passing countryside. When awake she kept her nose buried in a book she had brought with her. It was by someone called Lee Child. Jimmy had never heard of him.

  He looked at her. Why take a window seat if you didn’t want to look out of the window, Jimmy wondered. But he guessed she was one of those people who always took what they saw even if they wanted it or not. At Milan there was a twenty-five minute break before the Rome train. They sat in the station café, Nadine had a glass of wine and some sort of salad. Jimmy had a beer and a slice of some sort of flan. Railway station food. They didn’t talk. When their train pulled up to the platform Jimmy slipped past her as she marshalled her luggage to get on the train and, by the time she reached their seats, he was by the window. He didn’t offer to help her put her luggage up on the rack. She was a big, strong girl, she could manage by herself. She sat down and began once more to read her book, ignoring him.

  ‘Is it any good?’

  ‘No idea, it passes the time.’

  And she turned a page.

  The train began to pull out, it was the afternoon, the sun was lowering in the sky making the shadows longer and darker. Once clear of Milan there was a beauty about it all for anyone who had eyes to see. The ticket inspector passed through the compartment. If there was going to be a problem, if the Paris police had put out a call, now would be the time it all blew up in his face. But the ticket collector went on, and, after two station stops, nothing had happened. Everything was going smoothly. Whatever the Paris police were doing about Serge nobody seemed to be working hard at locating one James Costello. Or maybe it was just being on the train. Airports could be checked, but with paperless frontiers someone on a train became pretty much invisible. That was why he had chosen it.

  Jimmy looked out of the window. The outer edges of another big city slowly began to emerge from the countryside. He tried to think about how he’d handle Professor Scolari or whoever he came up against at the Collegio. But his brain froze. Suddenly he was too tired to think so he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  He had been asleep for about ten minutes when Nadine stopped her pretence of reading. She had been turning the pages slowly, at the right pace, but ignoring the words, thinking about Jimmy and her present situation. She lowered the book and looked at him. Definitely not a nobody. How would she handle him once she got what she wanted? It was a tricky call. Ditch him straight away or hold on to him? If she got what she wanted would she still need him to handle things until a deal was done? She then let her mind circle Jimmy’s interest in this business. How much did he know, what sort of people were behind him, and how much did they want? There was a lot to play for, more than a lot, but not enough to go shares with anyone. There was never enough to let some of it slip away. Jimmy stirred but didn’t open his eyes. The book went back up and her eyes looked at the words for a moment. It was a scene in which some tough guy was being tough. She turned the page and slightly lifted her eyes. He seemed still to be asleep so she lowered the book again and returned to her question. Ditch him or keep him? It was a big question.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The train arrived at Termini at six twenty-five. They had snacked on the journey, not eaten a real meal, and Jimmy was hungry. The first thing he wanted, now he was back in Rome, was to get some food inside him. He suggested a restaurant he knew.

  ‘No, we can have dinner after I’ve got my hotel sorted out.’

  ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘As long as it takes.’

  ‘Do you want me to recommend somewhere?’

  She gave a small laugh.

  ‘No, I don’t think our tastes would coincide. I’ll be staying at the RiverPalace. I booked yesterday as soon as I knew we were coming. It’s on the Via Flaminia.’

  ‘I know where it is and you’re right, our tastes don’t coincide.’

  The RiverPalace was very upmarket and in a smart-set part of the city, not the sort of place that Jimmy would want to go and probably not somewhere he’d be particularly welcome if he did.

  ‘I’ll call you when I’m ready.’

  And that was that. He was to wait until he was wanted.

  Nadine walked to the taxi rank, got in, and Jimmy watched the taxi pull away. He turned back to the station. He would catch the Metro to his apartment. Maybe he would drop into the Café Mozart for a drink or go straight up and make himself a sandwich. He wasn’t sure. Suddenly a man was at his side, close, too close. Jimmy tried to take a step away but bumped into another man standing on the other side, also too close.

  ‘Please, Mr Costello, do not make any fuss. There is someone who wants to talk to you and it would be better if you came willingly. If I use this you will collapse in less than thirty seconds.’ Jimmy looked down at the man’s hand which he took out of his coat pocket. It held a small hypodermic. ‘You will have fainted. It would only make a small disturbance, a small embarrassment, but nothing more, believe me.’

  Jimmy looked at the other man, Hypo was big enough, but not compared to his partner. They both had fixed smiles and were looking at him, no one was taking any notice, it was just three friends meeting and talking. Jimmy decided that they knew their business and if they’d wanted to finish him he’d be dead by now, so he shrugged. Why not? It was what he wanted after all, to make contact with the opposition. Now it seemed they’d saved him the trouble of looking.

  ‘It’s your party. Let’s go.’

  The big one attached himself to Jimmy’s arm while the other half of the sketch had his hand half out of his pocket so he could use the hypo quickly if he had to. They shepherded him to a black Fiat waiting some way behind the line of taxis. The big one’s grip tightened as he opened the door. Hypo got in first and moved across, Jimmy got pushed in and the big one got in beside him. Jimmy was glad it was a big car, in anything smaller he wouldn’t have been able to breathe. The car pulled away and as it did the man with the hypo used it in Jimmy’s thigh. Jimmy didn’t struggle except for a sudden jerk as the needle went in and, just as the man had said, in less than thirty seconds he passed out.

  He came round slumped in a big, comfortable armchair with his jacket and shoes off and a warm blanket spread over him. He had a headache and his first feeling was that if he didn’t get to a toilet quickly and take a piss his bladder would burst. He struggled to sit up and that made his head worse but he stuck at it. The man who had used the hyp
o was sitting in an armchair opposite, watching. Jimmy stood up and the man nodded his head to a door.

  ‘Through that door.’

  Jimmy went to the door and opened it. It was the bathroom. He stood at the toilet and relieved himself of the awful pressure. He had been kidnapped, shot full of dope, and was now in what looked like a hotel suite with the man who had used the hypo. But none of that diminished the momentary pleasure he felt, a sense of supreme relief. Finished, he rinsed his hands and went back into the room and looked round. It was the main room of an expensive hotel suite. Jimmy and Hypo were the only two occupants. His shoes were by the chair he’d woken up in so he put them back on while Hypo watched. After he’d tied his laces he stood up. Movement hurt but it helped.

  ‘What happens now?’

  Hypo shrugged.

  Jimmy knew he spoke English so he tried again.

  ‘I said what happens now, shithead?’

  The man didn’t react except to tell Jimmy to sit down. So Jimmy sat down. The relief of the toilet was gone and all that was left was a throbbing headache and Hypo, who still looked as if he knew his business, and Jimmy was in no state to play the tough guy.

  The bedroom door opened and a man walked in.

  ‘Hello, Mr Costello, nice to see you again. Has he used the toilet?’ Hypo nodded and said something in what sounded to Jimmy like Danish. ‘Good, you can go now, Bengt. Mr Costello and I need to talk for a while. I’ll call you when I need you.’

  Hypo, who was also Bengt, left and the new arrival sat in the chair opposite Jimmy.

  ‘I try so hard to keep you alive, Mr Costello, yet you seem to try just as hard to frustrate my efforts. Tell me, is that animosity on your part or your natural bloody-mindedness. Or is it perhaps sheer stupidity? No, not stupidity, I take back stupidity. You are many things, I know, but not usually stupid. My guess would be sheer bloody-mindedness.’

  The man sat back with a gentle grin on his face. He’d made his introduction now he waited for Jimmy to make his reply.

  ‘Still playing the comedian, Commander? It is still Commander is it? That was what you were when you saw me off at Copenhagen.’